Once they were out in the bustle of the Exchange crowd, Marcus felt a lot safer. He directed Raesinia to a nearby alley, where a few twists and turns put them among the back entrances to the Exchange’s buildings, right on the waterfront. They took shelter in the lee of a stairway, and Raesinia set down the stack of ledgers. She was fitter than she looked—she wasn’t even breathing hard.

“That,” he said, “was not a good idea.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“Just because it worked doesn’t make it a good idea. If he’d shouted for help first thing, we’d have been in serious trouble.”

“Not much to be done about that, unless you wanted to try and cut his throat before he got the chance. I figured you’d rather not.”

“You figured correctly,” Marcus said. He might not care for the Patriot Guards, but killing one in cold blood for doing his job properly wouldn’t have sat well on his conscience. “I hope you’ve realized that once someone finds him, word is going to get out eventually that records are missing.”

“I know,” Raesinia said, untying the twine of the stack of ledgers. “That’ll get back to the conspirators. Sooner, rather than later, if it is Maurisk that we’re dealing with.” She flipped open the top book and turned a few pages, then shook her head. “We’ve got to get these to Cora. It would take me weeks to make anything out of it, and we haven’t got that kind of time now.”

Marcus looked down at her, in her boyish red courier’s uniform—now stained with dust—and jaunty little cap. He shook his head.

“What?” she said.

“I was just thinking that it would be hard for you to be less like I expected.”

Raesinia rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry to be such a disappointment.”

“It’s not a disappointment,” Marcus said, surprised to find that he meant it. “Just a bit of a surprise.”

“See if you can find us a boat,” Raesinia said, tying the ledgers up again. “That’ll be the easiest way back to Twin Turrets, and then we can change into something inconspicuous to visit Cora. I doubt she gets many Exchange Central couriers.”

“As Your Majesty commands,” Marcus said, bowing low.

“Don’t make me hit you with something.”

Chapter Eight

WINTER